This is a really simple fanart I made of Armand, I mean, REALLY simple. I will be posting stuff like this, maybe better, of course. Requests are open.
But as I’m a new account, I’d like to present myself: Hi!
•Feel free to send me things
•I follow back because… Why not?
•you can send requests
•I do fan art
•I could RP, that would be fun.
shipjumper ENJOY! Tell me what u think. I’ve seen it twice now and cannot wait to buy it, apparently there will be cut scenes and commentary and such.
What We Do in the Shadows + Only Lovers Left Alive = the VC movie the VC fandom has been waiting for. They go in different directions, obviously, one is a dark comedy and the other is indie, beautiful, light angst. Still. YOU CANNOT ARGUE THE MATH.
vagabonddaniel-recordedarchives:
The glassy eyes of the corpse watch me as I try to catch my breath. I came to moments ago, standing in the center of the hotel room, her body crumpled on the floor, bloodless and unmoving. I do not remember this woman with her striped dress and retro hairdo. I have no memory of meeting her or of bringing her here. I don’t even recognize the hotel room. It might be under her name.
Shit, shit, shit.
I shake myself out of stillness. I have to do something. The hotel information on the table tells me this room is in Philadelphia. Last I remember, I was in Charlotte, North Carolina. I don’t know how I got here or how long I’ve been here. I don’t think the woman’s been dead more than a few hours because blood courses through my veins. I assume it used to be hers. But I’m working with a very limited set of facts. And the thing about hotels is, they don’t let you hole up for days. Eventually, they make you open the door. How long do I have? I don’t know.
The corpse has black hair and fake eyelashes. The stripes on her dress are blue and white. She is—was—pretty. Now she’s a corpse. Beauty doesn’t matter when you’re dead.
I pick up the hotel phone and dial Night Island. There’s no answer. I dial his office number. This time, he picks up. His tone is smooth, all business. All he says is, “Hello.” I slam the receiver down. I pace. I stare at the corpse. She’s watching me.
No, no, she’s dead. Murdered. I killed her.
I do not remember killing her. And this isn’t the first time this is happened.
I swallow my panic. It’s just a body. I can handle this.
What I can’t handle is blacking out and losing time. The cracks in my sanity are spreading like cracks in glass, growing and splintering off in a thousand directions and soon my mind will be shattered to pieces.
I pick up the phone again but this time, I don’t dial. I just stare at the corpse. “I fucked up,” I tell her. But then I amend that statement. “I am fucked up.”
She knew it was true. Maybe it was her last thought.
If I don’t clean up this mess, it may very well be mine.
The night was rolling to an end. The paparazzi had retreated to their coffins and lairs. I told David he could keep my suite at the hotel as long as he liked, and I had to head home soon.
But not quite yet. We’d been walking in the Grand Couvert of the Tuileries—in tree-shrouded darkness. “I’m thirsting,” I said aloud. At once he suggested where we might hunt.
“No, for your blood,” I said, pushing him backwards against the slender but firm trunk of a tree.
“You damnable brat,” he seethed.
“Oh, yes, despise me, please,” I said as I closed in. I pushed his face to one side, kissing his throat first, and then sinking my fangs very slowly, my tongue ready for those first radiant drops. I think I heard him say the single word, “Caution,” but once the blood struck the roof of my mouth, I wasn’t hearing clearly or seeing clearly and didn’t care.
I had to force myself to pull back. I held a mouthful of blood as long as I could until it seemed to be absorbed without my swallowing, and I let those last ripples of warmth pass through my fingers and toes.
“And you?” I asked. He was slumped there against the tree, obviously dizzy. I went to take him in my arms.
“Get away from me,” he growled. And started off walking, fast away from me. “Stick your filthy droit du seigneur right through your greedy heart.”
But I caught up with him and he didn’t resist when I put my arm around him and we walked on together like that.
“Now, that’s an idea,” I said, kissing him quickly though he stared forward and continued to ignore me. “If I was ‘King of the Vampires,’ I’d make it the right of every maker to drink from his fledgling anytime he chose. Maybe it would be good to be king. Didn’t Mel Brooks say, ‘It’s good to be the king’?”
And then in his droll cultured British voice he said with uncharacteristic brashness, “Kindly shut up.”
[—-]
I had turned to leave him when he took hold of me. His teeth went into the artery before I could think what was happening, and his arms went tight around my chest.
His pull was so strong that I swooned. Seems I turned and put my arms around him, catching his head in my left hand, and struggled with him, but the visions had opened up, and I didn’t know one realm from the other for a moment, and the manicured paths and trees of the Tuileries had become the Savage Garden of all the world. I’d fallen into a divine surrender, with his heart pounding against my heart. There was no restraint in him, no caution such as I’d shown in feeding on him.
I came to myself on the ground, my back to the trunk of a young chestnut tree, and he was gone. And the mild balmy night had turned to a gray winter dawn.
Home I went—to my “undisclosed location,” only minutes away on the currents of the wind, to ponder what I’d learned from my friends because I couldn’t do anything else.
The next night on rising, I caught the scent of David on my jacket, even on my hands.
– Best part of Prince Lestat. Unf unf hot DAMN. (via birdisland)
#Claudia wipe your mouth dearest
Claudia rolled her eyes and frowned at the statement. “Maybe I like the blood there, unless you want to remove it for me?” She smirked.
Lestat pondered this response for a moment, withdrawing the handkerchief back into his coat pocket. “Well… it’s gruesome, but it’s certainly a boldly artistic statement, ma cherie.”
I-want-my-IWTV 